


Meltdown

by elsewherewolf



Category: Strike Back
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsewherewolf/pseuds/elsewherewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damien Scott is a bit of an arsehole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meltdown

"What the fuck happened here?"

Michael steps into the room, over what he thinks was once a chair, kicks more debris out of the way even as Damien closes the door behind them.

"Meltdown."

That's right, Damien Scott doesn't beat around the bush. Unless it belongs to some girl he just met.

"Colonel Grant?"

Damien scratches his head, surveying the damage, and shrugs. "Not so much. Why do you give a shit anyway, man? Tomorrow you're back in Kerry's arms and I'm- Fuck, I don't know what I am."

"You're Damien Scott. You'll figure something out."

Scott snorts, throws himself backwards onto the bed. "Yeah, that's right. I'm Damien fucking Scott!" The last is punctuated with Scott's fist thrown into the air, and Michael would laugh except that he's not sure Damien would take kindly to being laughed at right now. So instead he leaves Damien drunkenly looking at his now outstretched hand, and sets about clearing the mess that's been made of the hotel room. It's probably a good job that Grant isn't around, she'd throw the biggest shitfit around at this.

"Hey, Michael. Mike. Mike-ee."

"You're completely pissed. Go to sleep."

"I'm not sleepy. C'mere. Let me complete you."

Michael rolls his eyes, pulls a chair that's still in one piece over to the bed and straddles it carefully, half-glad that this will be one of the last times he ever has to watch over a drunk Damien Scott just to be sure he doesn't puke himself to death.

"You're telling me you spent more than ten minutes in a bar and couldn't pick up a nice European girl to fuck? Maybe the world really is about to end."

Damien points his finger at Michael; it makes a shaky circle in the air. "You are a funny guy. You are. My mouth tastes funny."

That catches Michael's attention. He's aware that it's probably the combination of tequila and sambuca that's got Damien's tongue tied up in knots, but he's also aware that in spite of everything, there are probably still a few people out there who haven't yet tried to kill them, and are willing to give it a shot.

So he shoves up off the chair and kneels on the bed next to Scott, checking his pupils, his pulse, the smell of his breath. The last earns him a wet ear and a snort of laughter from Damien. "Oh, man, I got you. Fuck, you should see your face."

Something had to break, Michael thinks, and he's been stretched so far these past few weeks that he's known it'd come soon. He just didn't expect it to be here, or now. He flashes back to the organ farm, Scott's arms around him in the middle of all that pain. To the moment he thought Scott was done for, thanks to Connelly.

 _Tomorrow you're back in Kerry's arms._

Michael rips and rends Scott's shirt with his bare hands, squeezes and grips until skin starts to colour, violent shades like all the ones he's been painted lately while Damien's been getting out with scratches and bruises, the bastard. He doesn't know what it is that's driving him, except that he's breathing hard and everything's tinged red like dying and desperation, and Damien doesn't just lie there and take it; he bucks and forces everything to come down at him harder. Damien's not small by any stretch, but Michael's bigger and uses size and skill to his advantage.

It's not until he's sprawled across the bed, come cooling and drying across his belly, that he realises the painfully fucking obvious. Damien isn't drunk. Damien never was drunk. In fact, Damien's grinning down at him with the most self-satisfied expression he's probably ever worn - and that's saying something.

"You're such an arsehole."

"I love you too, man."


End file.
